


A Disastrous Thought

by MusicLover19



Series: Christmas Tales [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas Eve, Gen, Just a bit of fun, M/M, Misunderstandings, Slight Angst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 06:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17095742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicLover19/pseuds/MusicLover19
Summary: “Oh god, you’re breaking up with me on Christmas Eve,” Stiles moaned. He covered his face with the hand Peter wasn’t holding. “I should have seen this coming. Of course you are.”“What?”





	A Disastrous Thought

Stiles frowned, the whole apartment felt strange. He had asked Peter to finish preparing their part of the Christmas meal that they were asked to bring to his dad’s. It had started a few years ago, that Stiles’ dad would dedicate his home to the pack and their families for Christmas. In a way, it was good for him, to have that sense of family that hadn’t been there in years.

Stiles had been thrilled the first year that his dad had proposed the idea, sure, it had just been Scott and Melissa that joined. The next year, Stiles had invited Issac and Chris, both settled back into Beacon Hills hesitantly. It was nice, the group of them, if a bit awkward. They had all gotten each other silly gifts, which did help break the tension. The following year, Derek had been invited by the Sheriff. The next year, Erica and Boyd, who both had agreed without a single moments hesitation. Soon enough, even Liam, Lydia, and Lydia’s mother had come around, with gifts from Jackson in tow, who hadn’t been able to part from his parents. 

Peter’s addition had been a little more difficult to add. None of the pack had enjoyed the idea, but Stiles was stubborn. He had even drove to Peter’s apartment to collect the grumpy wolf to make sure he arrived in time to open presents. It was nice to see how Peter had slowly relaxed around the pack, and how he seemed at ease with the atmosphere. He hadn’t thanked anyone, but Stiles did notice the extra present that had been left on his bed at the end of the day. It had been a simple charm, the note saying that it brought good will and good luck. Stiles hadn’t thought anything of it as he slipped the charm into his jacket.

A couple more years passed, with Stiles and Peter slowly drifting towards each other and getting the other steadily more serious gifts. As cliche as it was, their first kiss had been under the mistletoe that the wolves had insisted on hanging around the house. As amusing as it was to see his dad kiss Chris on the cheek, or to see Issac kiss Lydia, or even Erica kiss Melissa, it was completely different to be faced with kissing Peter. It felt more real than it had when Stiles had to press a kiss to Scott’s cheek. It didn’t help with all the eyes on them. Luckily, Peter had taken pity on him, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before slipping through the house away from the cheers of the younger adults.

Stiles had found that ride back to Peter’s place awkward, having kept to the tradition of picking him up. It ended with the two of them making out in the car like teenagers. Stiles stumbling backwards into Peter’s apartment and being pressed against the wall with a huff of laughter as Peter’s hands roamed his body. It was one of the best Christmas’ Stiles could remember. The present that Peter had left was one more intimate as well, a single key in a small box on his bedside table. Stiles knew what it was, and his grin had been blinding. The next day, he had let himself into Peter’s apartment, into his space, with his brand new key.

It continued like that, only with Stiles not having to drive to Peter’s place to pick him up since he was now living with Peter. It had made the Christmas’ a little less stressful, as bad as Stiles felt leaving his dad to man the fort alone in the days leading up to Christmas. Stiles and Peter did take over some of the cooking, several of the side dishes were their responsibility, and it was stressful to know that Peter hadn’t started as Stiles had hoped.

“Peter?” Stiles called, hoping that the wolf would reply. “You alright?”

Silence. Stiles didn’t know how to feel about that. Peter was a stubborn man, and it was obvious that they clashed. It wasn’t the first time that either of them had given the other the cold shoulder for the day because of something they didn’t think about hurting them. It normally ended with whoever was being ignored breaking and pleading for forgiveness. Which was always given with some make-up time together.

This silence felt different, it wasn’t as though Peter was purposely ignoring him.

Huffing, Stiles continued through the apartment, hoping that he would find the wolf too focused on a book or something as equally captivating.

“Peter?” Stiles called again, poking his head into the kitchen. Bingo. “Babe?”

The twitch that Stiles expected didn’t come. Peter’s back was still turned to Stiles, and he stood calmly, no true tension in his back. He was working on something at the sink, which was out of Stiles’ eyesight.

Frowning, Stiles moved closer, taking a peek over Peter’s shoulder. Potatoes. He _had_ started, very recently.

“Did you get distracted?” Stiles asked, already prepared to tease his boyfriend. He rested his head on Peter’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around the man’s stomach. “I got Kindle’s stocking and the chocolate for him,” Stiles said. Since he had moved out, his dad had adopted a dog, to the slight disliking of the pack and to the immense joy of Stiles. It had been the day before that Stiles got a message from his dad about having not picked up a present for Kindle, so Stiles had that duty.

Peter made a noncommittal hum at Stiles’ statement. He didn’t lean back into the touch like he normally would, and Stiles couldn’t help but frown into Peter’s shoulder blade.

“Has anyone been by?” Stiles asked. It wasn’t like Peter to just shut down like this, it was rather unusual. It made Stiles uneasy, as much as he hated to admit it. Peter only acted like this when it was near the anniversary of the fire. It wasn’t that time of year, Christmas has always been a happy time, Peter enjoyed Christmas a lot. It had been something they bonded over early on in their _pairing_ , the cheesiness of the holiday worked well for their snark and sass, and it was one of the only times that Peter truly let himself enjoy the people around him without any worries.

“You heard from Derek?” Stiles asked, still pressing the topic, it was the last thing he could think about, and it was, admittedly, a rather weak suggestion. Derek had relaxed when he left Beacon Hills, Stiles had wondered if the stubborn man had finally given in and asked for help.

There was still no reaction from Peter. Stiles couldn’t help but worry, perhaps he didn’t know Peter as well as he thought. Sure, they had been living together, but the man was still guarded. Peter had started opening up, and Stiles still felt honoured that the man _wanted_ Stiles around on the anniversary. Stiles never asked anything, but Peter would offer bits about his life before. He would talk about how Talia wasn’t as stoic as she pretended, and how her husband would manage to make the best dishes the world had ever seen. Peter had spoken about how all of the kids would live happily, albeit a little frustrated at times. Stiles couldn’t help but treasure each memory shared, knowing that this family should have survived, and since they didn’t, their memory should.

Stiles had even started to tell Peter about his mother, he had needed to say the words one year, unable to hold them back. He told Peter in full detail, he started with his last memories of her, how she had not been in the right mind-frame and how he hadn’t understood. It made it easier to talk about the earlier memories, when they were happy and before she had started to show any signs of illness. The memories were foggier, and Stiles had admitted his fear of forgetting those positive memories. It hadn’t been easy, but Peter’s presence and his arms around Stiles had made the process easier, and Stiles had felt lighter.

Maybe it was just him?

Peter set the knife down, placing the potato he had pealed in the pot before easing Stiles’ arms from around him. Stiles let the movement go with a frown, still worried about what had caused Peter’s attitude.

“We need to talk,” Peter murmured, taking Stiles hand.

“Oh god, you’re breaking up with me on Christmas Eve,” Stiles moaned. He covered his face with the hand Peter wasn’t holding. “I should have seen this coming. Of course, you are.”

“What?”

Stiles peeked at Peter through his fingers, and was surprised to see the bewilderment there. Peter was staring at him open-mouthed. If Stiles wasn’t so worried about his future, and possibly moving back in with his dad, he would have been proud to pull that expression out of him.

“Why - what?”

“You’re _not_ breaking up with me?” Stiles asked, his voice getting steadily higher.

“Why would I be breaking up with you?” Peter asked, pulling Stiles’ other hand so that it was away from his face. He met Stiles’ eyes. He had noticed Stiles’ worry, the younger man was almost in a constant state of anxiety, especially when he had to get presents for other people. Peter hadn’t thought anything of it, too engrossed in his own thoughts.

“No one says ‘we need to talk’ without it being a break-up,” Stiles explained, as if it was gospel. “Did you not listen to friends? They all explain it to Rachel.”

“Stiles,” Peter sighed. It had been a mission of Stiles’ to bring Peter up to speed on everything he might have missed, including the questionable TV shows. Not that Peter minded, he enjoyed the nights that they were able to spend together on the sofa. “I’m not breaking up with you. I wanted to ask you something.”

“You - you really aren’t?”

“No, you stupid idiot,” Peter huffed, pulling Stiles close to him. It always astounded him how someone so smart could be so horribly stupid. “I just was thinking. Come sit down,” he said leading Stiles to their dining table. He waited for the younger man to sit before he continued. “You mentioned that your mom used to do that thing with the potatoes, right?”

Stiles nodded, suddenly unsure. This was uncharted territory, and he didn’t know what might come from it.

“I was thinking we can do that, for tomorrow, if you want,” Peter explained gently, his voice quiet. It struck Stiles how tentative the man was, which was unlike him. Stiles couldn’t help but feel the pang of pain in his chest at the mention of his mom, the bittersweetness in his throat, and the urge to crawl into Peter’s arms and never leave them again. Peter knew the feeling too, it was why he had been so unsure, and it all suddenly made sense to Stiles. The pieces linked and it explained it all. Peter had been distracted, and his tension was because he didn’t know how Stiles would react. Stiles, who had never once cooked anything similar to what his mother used to do around the house. Stiles, who had admitted to Peter that the thought of eating those meals was something he both longed for and feared.

Letting a shaky exhale, Stiles considered the offer. Could he do that to his dad? Would it be fair to do it? Would his dad even remember?

“I was going to try and make Michael’s stuffing,” Peter continued, squeezing Stiles’ hand. “We agreed to try something new.”

Stiles’ laugh was more watery than he wanted to admit. Peter didn’t mention it.

“I thought you meant a sex thing,” Stiles mumbled, earning a laugh from his partner.

“I’ve thought about it for a while.”

_Me too_ , Stiles wanted to say. He didn’t have the strength. He didn’t want to consider his tastes changing, he didn’t want to think about that last link of pure positivity to his mother being torn away. He didn’t think he was brave enough to handle that. Not now, and perhaps not ever.

“We - we can do it,” Stiles said, before he could take the words back. He knew that they would help each other, Peter would handle the potatoes, and Stiles would handle the stuffing. Stiles could sense Peter’s own reservations about this, and he couldn’t deny him a chance to move forward. He couldn’t deny himself that. They would get through it. Together. One memory at a time. After all, it was a nice way to bring their families back for the Holiday.


End file.
